


Wagers

by thedeadparrot



Category: Casino Royale (2006)
Genre: M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-19
Updated: 2010-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-06 12:02:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedeadparrot/pseuds/thedeadparrot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite what the rumors may say, the regular MI-6 support staff poker games are not the hottest ticket in London on Thursday nights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wagers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [simplelyric](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=simplelyric).



> Written for [](http://simplelyric.livejournal.com/profile)[**simplelyric**](http://simplelyric.livejournal.com/) as part of the [Lightening Round](http://community.livejournal.com/help_haiti/2706.html) at [](http://community.livejournal.com/help_haiti/profile)[**help_haiti**](http://community.livejournal.com/help_haiti/). [](http://queenzulu.livejournal.com/profile)[**queenzulu**](http://queenzulu.livejournal.com/) rocks for the speedy beta.

Despite what the rumors may say, the regular MI-6 support staff poker games are not the hottest ticket in London on Thursday nights. It's really just a small group of over-worked, under-paid civil servants who always jump at a chance to complain about the stresses of their jobs one night a week. Which agents have been requisitioning new cars, whose bosses are feeling to pressure from the Joint Intelligence Committee, what obscure terrorist cells need to be researched this week. Nothing too classified, of course, but the complaints flow freely between them.

For some reason, these games seem to attract field agents, usually whoever is in London between missions and looking for some gossip on what the higher ups have in store for the future. Agents 009 or 004 tend to show up whenever they can, almost always unannounced. 004, in particular, always seems to be angling to find out whether or not there will be more assignments in South East Asia. For a spook, she's not very subtle about where her interests lie.

Villiers finds these infrequent visitors more a nuisance than anything else, because despite what the agents might think, even the support staff has developed a healthy sense of paranoia and cagey awareness as a necessary precaution for their jobs. And around agents, it comes out in full force. Sure, they can put on a good show of having a good time, but they have to watch their words more carefully, and Villiers really resents being put on edge when he's trying to relax.

Tonight's special guest is 007, the new one. Bond, if Villiers is remembering the name correctly. Some agents like to chatter, steering the conversation this way and that, but Bond remains quiet and watchful as the regulars exchange chit-chat and idle banter.

Bond's eyes are very blue, and Villiers catches himself staring a few more times than he should. Bond doesn't seem to notice, far more interested in the argument between Waxman and Tanner about the rumors that a few programs might be on shaky ground, about to be shut down. They have this argument every few weeks, but of course, Bond doesn't know that.

Eventually, they get organized enough to play a few hands of seven-card-stud, and that's when Villiers gets a feel for Bond's skill as a player. Most agents are good, but not great. They can keep straight faces, and they can pick up tells, but they don't always understand the nuances of the game, the precise way to push someone into a fold, how to read the cards on the table against the ones in your hand. It's the sort of thing you pick up through experience more than anything else, the kind you get from playing against some of the most inscrutable people in the world week after week. It's always been important for the support staff to be able to keep a straight face, too.

Bond, on the other hand, is an _excellent_ player. He gives absolutely nothing away, not even the twitch of a hand at an odd moment, and he watches the cards and players like a hawk. All of the agents are a little strange up close, like simulacra of real people, like they don't know who to be when they're not pretending to be human, but Bond may be the most unsettling of them all. He, unlike the others who show up, doesn't bother hiding how dangerous he is.

Villiers has seen the man a few times before. He might even have filed a few of Bond's brief, vague reports himself. But he's never really bothered to study the man, figuring that the understanding would come in its own time. Or become irrelevant rather quickly. One or the other.

He has to re-evaluate that position after watching Bond play.

There's a break after a few rounds, because Hammond keeps whining about how it's not a _real_ poker night until they've also played a few hands of Texas Hold 'em. Villiers takes the opportunity to help himself to Tanner's alcohol, ducking out into the kitchen to fetch himself a bottle of Guinness.

"You're better than you let on," Bond says, startling him. The kitchen is small, and Villiers can feel Bond's presence at his back. Not too close, but not too far away, either. Most likely at the doorway.

Villiers shrugs. "I've been getting a lot of practice," he says. Bond's attention is making his skin prickle in a way that's both uncomfortable and vaguely pleasurable.

"You're not as easy to read as the others," Bond says. "You like to pretend that you are, but you aren't. How much are you ahead by?"

"I'm up a few quid," Villiers says, noncommittal. Agents. Sometimes they think they need to know everything, which is something that routinely drives Villiers up the wall. He doesn't like digging up minutiae at three in the morning for demanding agents.

He glances over his shoulder. Bond is still staring at him, and his eyes, even in the odd light, are still that vivid, electric blue. They give away nothing of Bond's intentions. "I used to wonder what you'd be like when you weren't answering M's phones," he says, his voice calm, conversational. Bond takes one step closer, as if he's about to crowd Villiers in, despite the fact that he's obviously shorter. One step further, and he'd be right in Villier's face, almost touching.

Villiers turns to face him directly. He's known plenty of agents like Bond; show any sign of fear, and they'll use that every chance they get. "Not terribly interesting, I'm afraid," Villiers says. He's been deflecting people from M's office for years. It'll take a lot more than that to shake him.

Bond doesn't show teeth, but the smile on his face feels dangerous all the same. "For some reason, I find that hard to believe." And he looks so genuinely curious, Villiers wonders what it would be like to take the chance, to let Bond take that last step between them. It'd be interesting, that's for sure. Dangerous in a way that Villiers is not used to. Bond's danger is larger than life and glamorous, while Villiers is forced to be watchful of the mundane. He could let it happen once. Once, that wouldn't cause any trouble, and he knows that Bond wouldn't want any sort of commitment from him anyway. Once couldn't hurt anyone at all.

He holds Bond's gaze for a few long moments before Waxman yells, "Oi, Villiers! Get your arse back in here! We're about to start without you!"

The moment breaks open, and Villiers turns away, mentally cursing himself. Agents. He should know better than that. He picks up his bottle of Guinness and retakes his seat at the table, not bothering to see if Bond is following behind.

 

FIN.


End file.
